


when you're alone (a dirty picture for you)

by enbycupcake



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 09:26:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11964525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbycupcake/pseuds/enbycupcake
Summary: Padmé is too aroused to pay attention to her work, so she takes a break to masturbate. Anakin isn't physically there, but he helps her out.





	when you're alone (a dirty picture for you)

**Author's Note:**

> Why _wouldn't_ Padmé have dirty photos of her husband???? Have you seen Anakin??

Biting her lip, Padmé shuts down the datapad in her hands. She can’t focus. Energy bills, while necessary, aren’t enough to draw her mind back from where it’s wandered, lust clouding her mind, arousal coiling in her bones. Work isn’t enough to pull her from distraction. Glancing at Threepio making her lunch, Padmé places her datapad down on the couch beside her and flexes her thighs, feeling how wet she already is. Taking a break to clear her mind is the only thing for it at this point. 

“Threepio, I’ll be in my room. I’m afraid I need a break, and I might doze.”

The clanging of a plate being placed on a serving tray echoes from the kitchenette, and the protocol droid walks into the room to talk face to face. “Mistress Padmé, would you like me to wake you at a specified time?”

“No, thank you, Threepio. I just wanted to let you know,” she smiles, “the energy bills are not abandoned.”

“Why, I would never make such an assumption! Forgoing them in the pursuit of something higher on the priority list, however, Mistress Padmé…”

“Threepio! Such slander! Such lies!”

Threepio raises his arm solemnly, amusement clear despite the expressionlessness of his face. “It’s my duty to the Republic to expose how low level bills are treated in the Senate.”

“I should hope the crime for napping is a light one.”

“I suppose we can only hope,” Threepio says as he turns around, likely to place her lunch in the conservator. 

Snorting, Padmé runs her hand along her datapad before standing. _Finally_. She walks to her bedroom, anticipation shooting through her, and unpins her hair. It’s a simple enough style for it to be quick work, just removing the headpiece and a few pins. After her hair cascades down her back, Padmé places her headpiece on her vanity. She slides her fingers along the ancient wood, pressing down when she reaches the switch that opens the secret compartment. It opens to reveal the datapad and expensive heated lubricant that she only takes out when Anakin is over. 

Sighing in relief, Padmé picks it up and drops onto her bed. Her mattress bounces under her, and she eagerly spreads her legs, bending her knees up. The heat that has been stirring in her gut roars to full power as she turns the datapad on. Biting her lip, Padmé pushes her skirt up and trails her hand down to her groin. A long sigh falls from her at the first touch of her fingers to her clit. Her body has been waiting for this. 

Balancing the datapad on her thigh, Padmé opens up her holo gallery. They’re organized by the type of activity they were doing, and Padmé hums as she reads through her list. She isn’t in the mood for images of her husband going down on her, and she nixes the collection where Anakin is bound or restrained. Flicking her finger, Padmé inhales sharply when she sees the thumbnail for the collection of her husband touching himself for her. She had completely forgotten about this holo. 

Clicking on the holo, Padmé groans happily when she sees it in full and lightly rubs her clit. It’s the first picture she took of Anakin masturbating, and his nervousness has been captured perfectly. A flush dusts his cheeks, his rosy bottom lip held between his teeth, his shoulders held tight to his body. Anakin’s lashes are downward, shadowing his eyes, giving him an innocent air, and his eyebrows are drawn up as his fingers disappear into his vagina. Padmé remembers that he’d asked her if he was doing this right, if she could see what she wanted from behind the holo camera. She remembered that she’d laughed, airy, and told him that he looked good enough to eat. 

Padmé has to agree with her past self. She wants to insert herself into the holo and push her husband’s legs out of the way so she can replace his fingers with her mouth. Anakin had looked so pretty as a Padawan, his face not as chiseled yet, his lips even fuller, and his braid a nice handhold when he wasn’t twirling it – one of his few successful seduction techniques – between his fingers or putting it between his teeth. Padmé misses it, sometimes, but she does enjoy Anakin’s current longer locks and how she can grab more in her hand.

Whining as she opens the bottle of lubricant so she can imitate the holo of her husband, Padmé closes her eyes briefly, remembering. Anakin was so hesitant with the camera on him, and he’d worked himself so prettily as she directed him. Padmé thinks this was the first time she ever gave him so much direction in bed, and she groans at the thought. Anakin obeys her so, so very well, and she’s pleased at what that discovery has done for their sex life. 

Pressing a lubed finger against her entrance, Padmé tightens her hold on the datapad. Not loose enough yet. Opening her eyes and massaging her lips, she rubs her head against her pillow. If only she’d taken a video instead of just a holo; she remembers that Anakin had screamed when he climaxed, so overwhelmed with how much praise she was heaping on him and the knowledge that she was going to use the holo to masturbate herself later. 

Padmé sighs in relief as she manages to push a finger into herself and exits back to the gallery screen on her datapad. She next clicks on an image of Anakin – still a Padawan – on his back, his lower legs twisted in her bedsheets and his binder wet with her own fluid and lube from where she had rubbed herself off over him, a test to see if he could keep his hands to himself as she pleased herself right in front of him. He couldn’t, that time; Anakin had itched so badly to touch her that he couldn’t help himself, and Padmé had denied him orgasm. Padmé huffs, amused and hot, as she reflects on how far he’s come in that regard. He stays where she puts him, now, with some pouting and whining on brattier or playful days. But he doesn’t touch if she says he can’t. 

Rubbing her clit with her thumb as she slides another finger into her vagina, Padmé switches to another holo. This one is of Anakin facedown on a pillow, his Padawan braid curling over his neck, one of his arms braced on the bed for balance while his other hand presses the blue glass dildo Padmé had bought him into his ass. Padmé swears at the sight. Her husband has such a beautiful body, and she widens one of her legs to change the angle her fingers can achieve. She wishes that her husband was here, in her bedroom, showing off for her in person instead of in memory. 

Padmé stays on this holo, replaying the little mewls that Anakin had let out, the way his back had tensed and relaxed in pleasure in response to his movements. Anakin had almost forgetten she was behind him while he worked himself over, Padmé having little to say she was so entranced watching him. When she had put a hand on his ass, he’d let out a little squeak and turned his head to first pout at her before he’d begged her to take over the dildo. She’d happily done so and slowed down his pace. Padmé lets her body jerk in response to her fingers; Anakin had been absolutely boneless the hours later when Padmé finally pulled it out of his ass, collapsing immediately into the mattress in a pleasure haze. 

It was a lovely night. 

She flicks to another holo. This one is more recent, Anakin’s muscle definition thicker, his body widened out. Padmé lets out a gasp. She speeds up her thumb, and a whine crawls out of her throat. Her husband’s even prettier now, his happiness with his current body the most attractive thing about him. He’s preening in the holo, head pressed happily into her pillow while his arms are thrown carelessly over his head, highlighting them and how small his breasts have gotten. Anakin had been so happy to show off his progress to her, a few months of separation between them as he was sent to the front. 

Padmé had delighted in his happiness, and she had eagerly – after assuring herself that he was in health – thrown him into bed to enjoy him. If she remembers right, there were maybe three rounds before she even broke out the holo camera. Licking her lip, Padmé brings her sightline lower on the holo, to where Anakin’s legs are spread wide for her viewing pleasure. He’s wet, both from himself and the lube they’d spilled, his lips already stretched, and Padmé moans at the sight of her husband. He’s such a pretty sight. 

Closing her eyes, Padmé inserts a third finger into herself and curls them all. Easily, she can remember how Anakin had slide his hands down himself. He started in an imitation of a hold on his neck before bringing them down to play with his nipples. His hair had haloed beneath his head as he tilted back, his chest pushing out to seek more from his fingers. Padmé echoes the parting of her lips that the motion had caused herself then, entranced in the memory of her husband. Next, Anakin had caressed his stomach, his newly defined abs still so exciting. He’d only been a bit shy about how much he liked them, easily overshadowed by how much they pleased him. Padmé couldn’t – can’t – blame him; she likes them, too. 

Padmé takes her hand off her datapad to follow her memory. Anakin had danced his fingers over his mound, and so now does Padmé. She takes her thumb off her clit and focuses that hand solely on fingering herself. Pressing her lips together, Padmé shakes as she follows the tempo Anakin had set for jerking himself off. He likes it fast, always has for just dick stimulation, and Padmé struggles to follow, herself preferring slower touches to her clit. But she wants to match him, wants to connect to her husband while he’s not here. She can pretend.

Gasping at the particularly nice thrust of her fingers in addition to a rub on her clitoral hood, Padmé pushes her head back into her pillow. She’s sweating, and she swallows heavily as she continues. The Anakin in her head is moaning, her husband always loud because he likes the thought of being heard, and Padmé bites her lip. Her imaginary husband pulls his legs up in pleasure. He squeezes himself and moans her name, _Padmé, Padmé, Padmé, Padmé_. It makes her dizzy all over again. Touching himself, and it’s for _her_. Displaying himself for _her_. 

Padmé tips over the edge.

She sighs as she melts into her mattress, fingers lazily still rubbing herself. Anakin had lasted longer the night of the holo. It draws a laugh out of her, that she couldn’t hold out until the best part. Bringing a hand up to cradle her datapad, Padmé checks the time. It’d be best if she actually did get out of bed and continue looking over the energy bills, but her blanket is soft beneath her and the slow motions of her hand is alluring. She could spare the time to get in another orgasm; the bills, like Threepio said, are low level and not a priority. 

Snorting at herself, Padmé switches to a different category of holos, selecting one of Anakin bound in lightsaber blue ropes. If she doesn’t get off again, she reasons, the same problem of being unable to focus will happen. Getting off again is for the greater good of the minutia of the galaxy. 

And she’ll have plenty of new dirty talk material the next time Anakin comes to visit.


End file.
